life is a journey... yada, yada, yada.

alrighty. checking in with you, my loyal readers. you know who you are. :)

so, life is a journey, eh? that it is. my journey apparently includes a medical condition i have ignored, threw out the window, thinking it didn't really pertain to me. i was wrong.

back when i was trying to become pregnant for the first time in 2003 i was told by a specialist that i have Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. PCOS. the doctor said i would have trouble conceiving. two weeks later, i conceived without any interventions. i thought, 'so what if i have all these cysts on my ovaries?? everything seems to be working just fine...' so, pfffffttt, whatever, Doc. i totally blew that one off. then several years later, i was pregnant again, without a hitch. i never bothered to research this condition. and what it meant. i had a lot of trouble losing weight after these pregnancies. but in 2010 i worked out like a mad person. i ate well. i did it. i lost 50 pounds in about a year. then in the last couple of years, the weight came back. and THEN SOME. but i've still been working out. i run. quite a bit. i wasn't being as careful with the food though. then my new gynecologist said, "hey." yep. PCOS. a 2 hour glucose test would probably pinpoint that i am becoming insulin resistant. i don't want to be put on any pharmaceuticals if i can avoid it. so i read. and READ. and READ SOME MORE. i took inventory on the supplements i've been taking. changed THAT up. added some. took some away. thank you, j, for reading with me, doing research on your own. :) read about "eating primitive," which is basically just Clean Eating. i understand now that yeast is incredibly bad for me. dairy was always a 'duh,' but i ate it anyway. so i've stopped that. sugar, obviously, is a NO. eating all this stuff that wasn't good for my body was making it so that all my exercise wasn't making a damn difference. i haven't been able to make a dent in my weight or physical appearance like before. something wasn't working.

i look back now and i recognize all my symptoms: acne, bloating, a "thick" middle, a round bloaty face, skin tags... and so on. this SYNDROME is making it about impossible for me to look "normal." not impossible though. not really. because i'm going to beat this. i'm going to. i will. i haven't been working this hard for this long to be healthy, to just give up. i will not let myself become diabetic or have heart disease, which is what happens if you are insulin resistant for too long.

so i will keep running. keep doing hand weights. crunches. stretching. dancing. and i will eat so much better. i WILL tell this PCOS to go to hell.

my girl

this post is more of just a record for me. of things Emma wrote and said today that made me laugh and/or cry.
grandparents' day is coming up at school. Emma brought home papers she was working on-- one for my dad, "papaw art," and one for my grandma, the kids' "mamaw virginia ." one of the questions was, "If you had one wish for your Grandma/Grandpa what would it be?" she wrote on mamaw's , "I would wish she could hear better." on my dad's Emma penciled ,"I would wish for him to feel better." she told me she wished he would not hurt. Emma is such a caring person. i melted.
tonight when i was putting her to bed i was asking her things about her day at school. i had my arm around her. she put her arms around me, and she squeezed a little tighter after i would ask something. she rarely hugs. finally she asked,"if i give you a great big hug, will you stop asking me questions?!" and she smiled so big. i should have known something was up! ;-) i love how she says what she's thinking AND she's getting pretty good with her humour and sarcasm. ;-)

Personal Haiku written by me for you. $4.00 per Haiku. Proceeds go towards dance classes, etc. for Emma.

I am offering my writing services to you in a whimsical way to help with the cost of dance lessons for Emma or any activity that might be good for her. I am not asking for charity of any sort. I will provide you with a haiku written by me, topic of your choice. Hand-signed. $4.00 per haiku. I will need your email address and mailing address please. I will email you an invoice via PayPal. Please email me at acgorsline@yahoo.com or shoot me a Personal Message on Facebook.

Once Emma wasn't a pretender, not that i could see. But i wasn't looking hard enough...

So, the kids and I were in the car this evening. Noah had his notepad and pen and was taking Emma's order-- they were at a restaurant, you see. Emma said, "My name is Faith. F-a-i-t-h. McCarra. M-c-C-a-r-r-a. It's my birthday. I'm 32. When you bring out my cake, please put pink icing on it." My heart stopped. 32!!!! What?! I said, "Lord! Where has the time gone? How'd I get so old??" I was teasing of course. But really, yes, I did think, 'Where does it go? time? please slow down.' I thought how one day we will be celebrating her thirty-second birthday. It makes me panic.

Then another thought followed the panic. One that calmed me --I breathed again. It wasn't so long ago when Emma wasn't a pretender. Has it really been almost 7 years since I got her that wooden toy kitchen? The one she ignored. Except for the plates because they were circular. Circles were her obsession when she was 3. She stacked the plates and hoarded anything else circular, ring-shaped. I had a friend (sometimes these friends don't stick around too long when they see the differences between your child and theirs) whose daughter would make a beeline for the kitchen and "cook" us food and "wash" the dishes. Emma hummed. and stacked. and removed her clothes. In those days, I would get sad. but defensive. and tried to brush off the discontinued friendships as best I could.

Now I know better. I KNOW Emma was learning in HER way. not the way the professionals and the books told me she should be learning. those shapes were important to her. she self-soothed by rocking and humming (still does) so she could bear the noise of this other little busy child around her. her clothes were restrictive, a prison binding her aching skin. oh, I know. I've never liked clothes myself. sometimes I want to scream because of how they feel on me. I know.

I have Emma's milestones in my head. The day she brought a doll out and insisted we make a place for it at the supper table. She was almost 5. We had a party that night! My face was awash with tears all evening. I laughed and cried simultaneously. ...the day Emma said, "You are sad, Mommy. When we get home I will dance like a monkey for you." She had never (seemed) to be aware of my tears before. I know now that she has always been aware of my emotions, since day one. But this was the first time she verbalized something like that to me. ... The day (this year) she said, " I felt hurt today. ________ was mean to me. I'm so sad. I don't want to go to school." She's never told me before when someone has hurt her feelings or mistreated her. It made me sad to hear that, but it was a welcome shock too to know that she could put that into words for me so maybe I could help her.

I notice all things. I celebrate all the small and gi-normous victories.

her "engine" derailed

got a note in Emma's backpack today. It was a rough day. She was a distraction to the class in the afternoon. There was yet again another two-hour delay today. Then a convocation in the afternoon. The afternoon bus ride was about fifteen minutes longer today too. She had her afternoon snack, and I let her know she could take an hour to recoup before we started homework. She didn't do well with the after school kids I care for... in their personal space, inappropriate laughter, loud vocalizations, yelling. She picked up her DS and began to take pics and edit them. This always soothes her when she's over-stimulated. I had to use this to my advantage when prompting her to start the homework. Math! Gah! Even I dread Math. ... but she is actually quite good at it is the thing. ...anyway, I suggested she take pics of her math homework while she was working on it. Great! She did. And a close-up of my boob(covered by by sweater, of course), a close- up of me making a funny face, a few pics of "her" kitten Judy. Then she put the DS down and zipped right through the 16 problems in 25 minutes. **it depend on the day-- sometimes 16- 20 problems can take us an hour and a half with several breaks.** ... I am getting off point. Or maybe not really. ... the evenin was calm and quiet from there on out. UNTIL bedtime. The high- pitched screaming resumed. The laughing and jumping and rocking. And she can't stand when Noah and I look at her when she's in this state. She says we scare her. We have monster faces staring at her. And she giggles uncontrollably and shrieks nervously. THEN THE TEARS COME. We have been camped out in the living room for a few nights because of the frigid temperatures. I have rooms closed off. An electric heater going. The thermostat turned down so low it barely makes a difference. Three weeks of winter break, extended. A week back at school but with two-hour delays. More delays this week. Not getting outside much. Bein unable to sleep in her own room. Oh, and her dad being back in town and adjusting to that. I do believe I can understand her frequent meltdowns here -- I've been on sensory overload myself lately!
I sang every sweet lullaby I know tonight. They sang along. I ran out of songs so I Googled them. Didn't care at all if I was singing them to the right tune or in the right key. I just sang until she stopped yelling and Noah stopped crying because she was being too loud and why didn't he have a cat on him Why Give him a cat Now.

seeing things in the snow piles

all that snow started to melt. and got pushed aside into giant, nasty piles of eyesores. and right out there, out my front window. there I saw it: the dirty horse in mid-gallop, in the muck. he's still there, frozen. but melting. no one has walked by and kicked it. no diesel truck has smooshed it down. it hasn't been cremated, laid to rest in the soggy ground.

hope, i whisper it.

depression is a bitch. i'll tell you that.

it is all my fault. all of it.

i'm being hard on myself, I know. but what is else there? I divorced. I got a job. I worked for 3 years. 3 very difficult years, until I had used up all resources (my family and friends) as babysitters. until I had listened to Emma screaming and crying for the ??what?? time because I had left her with someone who didn't understand her. who yelled at her. after i paid a sitter, i was left with so little money. I had to quit. I've been trying to stay at home. to work here. doing childcare. doing ANYTHING. I keep hoping. --
what is that HOPE quote?

-- "Hope is the most precious treasure to a person."--

I keep TRYING. I don't know how to make any more money here at home. GAWD, I am trying. I have applied to every part-time job I know. but there have been no replies. I don't know many employers who need someone there during school hours only. and it has to be during those hours. I am not leaving Emma with anyone ever again.

I am drowning.
I can't keep up.

it's too cold to run (for me.) so I get on that elliptical. and I work so hard. and I cry. cry. cry. and yell. so quietly I do.

i'm tired of crying. and don't misunderstand me please. I am no victim. ...
I just feel so "thought" out. all my ideas have trickled out. and i'm not sure I am believed in. I need to keep believing in myself.
there is no "throwing in the towel" for me. I have two children. and I just keep trying. but I am grasping. slipping. when I try to pull myself up, there is nothing there to grab onto.

hope. hope. hope.

I whisper it.
I scream it (in my head.)